So I move things around in the house. A lot. Like people's bedrooms and stuff.

My mother says she feels sorry for Desi because she thinks some day he'll come home, sit down, and fall on the floor. Because the sofa or chair that used to be there will be gone.

Related...

My VERY BEST FRIEND from childhood (or 8th grade or whatever) has recently given me a 17th chance and she has graciously, yet cautiously taken me back after a massive number of misunderstandings and various demonstrations of my "issues." One of those dominant issues I struggle with is being completely impatient and compulsive. I want EVERYTHING done yesterday.

She and her husband Amos visited here after a 2+ absence from my life.

Her absence may or MAY NOT have finally resulted from an episode of my drinking far too much at Festa Italiano, badgering Desi, and hooting one of those gigantic plastic horns in the ears of complete strangers.

That sounded way more funny when I said it to myself. Only, it's sad. Very sad. But. Squirrel.

So anyway, my former BFF took me back. She forgave me a MULTITUDE of sins. In return, I promised her I would behave. To the best of my abilities. I would try to be a better friend. And I did try. I was a better friend, in my opinion. Things were clearly on the mend. This made me very happy.

While here on her visit, I promised her I would give her my 1920's farm house table and chairs. I'm not so sure she cared much about the chairs. Or even the table. But I promised her. And that table had AMAZING legs! She explained that she had always loved that table, ever since I first bought it for way more than I should have paid for it. She didn't actually say that part. But she lusted after my table for years, apparently. Probably because it had amazing legs.

Unfortunately, I had already decided it had to be gone. Yesterday gone. We live in a smallish Colonial home. And the boxy rooms with five hundred doors have become slightly squeezy for my family of four.
Don't laugh.

Our oldest daughter, Thing One is eleven years old now and an emotional wreckage of a hormonal mess. She and our littlest, Ass Thing 2 (age 5) shared a bedroom. Now, before you go feeling sorry for them you should know it was the master bedroom. It's freaking enormous! Huge! No matter how much they bicker and argue, they still insist on having their beds next to each other so one can reach over in the night and comfort the other when they've just had their asses chewed for the fifteenth time because they still haven't gone to sleep.

This will all make sense soon. I promise.

One of my issues (among others) is a major lack of patience.

That, plus since I crashed Desi's van and camper last summer,

I've been compelled to "earn" my keep, so to speak.

And so. I sold it.

The table.

I sold the fucking table.

To a stranger.

On Craigslist. AFTER I promised it to my soon-to-be-again-former BFF.

DEAR FORMER BFF, LATER REUNITED BFF, LIKELY TO AGAIN BE SEPARATED BFF...

I'M SORRY!

I know I told you that it was yours. Except, you know how my patience is lacking.

And it's been on Craigslist for fucking EVER.

Apparently, much like the real estate market, anything will sell if you price it low enough.

I'm guessing this might not make you (LoLo) feel much better. If anything, know this.